The quiet pressed in like stone, thick and breathless.

  Tessa kept still, wedged into the narrow ledge with her back against the cavern wall. One of her knees bumped against Rellen’s ribs, the other drawn close to her chest. Her hip rested awkwardly across his thigh, and his arm was still behind her, palm braced beside her waist. He hadn’t shifted since they climbed up. Neither had she.

  Below them, the bloom cavern lay still. The only light came from Vasha’s fallen lantern, its flame guttering but not yet out. It threw long, stretched shadows across the cavern floor, flickering across the shards of crystal and the motionless shape beside them.

  Tessa didn’t look there. Instead, she let her eyes wander, searching for distraction. Just beyond the edge of their ledge, half-veiled by stone, a small cluster of mana crystals glimmered faintly. Pale blue. She stared at them. So much mana right there. Close enough to touch.

  There was something absurd in it. Surrounded by mana and none of it could help. Not in the way they needed. It was ironic—enough power to light a dozen spells if it were harvested, if it weren’t still locked inside the jagged stone.

  She shifted her weight slightly, trying to relieve the pressure building along her ribs from where the stone pressed against her back. The narrowness of the ledge left her nowhere to stretch, and the only way to adjust meant leaning more into Rellen’s body. Her hip settled more fully across his thigh, and her shoulder, already brushing him, slipped against the side of his chest.

  She felt the tension ripple through him for the briefest moment—his leg tensing beneath hers, his breath hitching slightly as her weight adjusted. Then he settled again, unflinching, as if her presence didn’t bother him in the slightest. It did bother her. Not in a bad way. Not exactly.

  But it made her aware of every point of contact. Of the warmth soaking through layers of fabric. Of how steady his breathing was, even now. Of the quiet hum of his focus that hadn’t faltered since they’d climbed into hiding.

  She wondered if he could feel how tightly wound she was, how her silence wasn’t born from calm but from trying to keep the shape of herself together. She wasn’t just listening for Rynna anymore. She was listening to Rellen too.

  To the steadiness of him, the quiet strength he carried in his stillness, that he hadn’t said a single word since the magic had gone up, hadn’t offered her comfort or commentary or excuses. Just sat there beside her, quiet and close. Not asking. Not apologizing. Just... waiting.

  He didn’t seem nervous. Not tense. Not even watchful in the way she was, flinching at every distant echo, every imagined scrape of boot on stone. He was composed. Alert, yes—but not wound tight like she was. Not bracing for something he didn’t understand. It struck her then—not as a revelation, but as a simple, obvious truth. He’d done this before.

  The calm wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t luck or stubbornness. It was something that came from too many long waits, too many narrow escapes, too many nights pressed into corners, holding his breath with someone else's life in his hands.

  Tessa swallowed, her throat dry behind the filter of her mask. She wasn’t built for this. Not for the shadows and the silence and the blood cooling on the cavern floor.

  This wasn’t her world. But it was his. And for now, she had to live in it. She shifted slightly again, grounding herself with the warmth of Rellen’s thigh beneath her, the edge of his coat pressed against her hip. He didn’t move or glance down, didn’t even twitch.

  He was still watching. Still listening. Her gaze flicked once more to the mana crystals just beyond the ledge, glowing gently in the dark. They weren’t just beautiful. They were energy. They were what he needed.

  If she could get one out—intact, unshattered—he might be able to draw from it. Charge something. Anything. A single spell might make the difference if Rynna came back hunting. The problem was, she knew just enough for it to be dangerous.

  Crystals like this couldn’t just be yanked out of the rock. The mana inside was unstable in its raw form. Brute force shattered the structure, released the energy into the air, and left you with glittering shards and nothing useful. Harvesters used specialized tools—chisels with dampening filaments, low-friction braces to steady the crystal, mana-insulated gloves to prevent triggering a surge.

  Tessa, naturally, had none of that. But she did have a passive skill. Her gaze narrowed slightly, thoughts turning inward.

  [Improvised Tool]

  It was one of her oldest passives—often overlooked, half the time used when she was too lazy to dig out the right item and ended up repurposing something else. A spoon to pry open a hinge. A belt buckle to hammer in a pin. A coil of wire reworked into a clamp when the real one had snapped mid-stitch.

  It always worked as if it was the original purpose of the tool. The thought wormed in slowly. Could it work here?

  Her satchel was still with her. Her kit was small, but she’d packed it the way she always did—with just enough for field repairs. Needle, pliers, patch cord, dull awl.

  Not a crystal harvester’s arsenal. But maybe, if she angled things just right, if she used the cord for stability and something small to wedge beneath the growth, she could use her passive skill to convince herself she was using the right tool for the job. Or at least the right intent.

  She glanced again at Rellen. Maybe unaware of how fast her heart was suddenly beating. But this was something she could try. Something only she could try. She flexed her fingers once and looked back at the glowing crystal. It wasn’t a lot. But maybe it didn’t need to be.

  She turned her head slightly, voice low beneath the mask. “I’m going to try something.”

  Rellen didn’t look at her. “Quietly?”

  “As quietly as I can,” she said. “But I need to lean forward. I don’t want to fall on my face.”

  That earned her a flick of his eyes, just a glance—but enough to show he’d heard. He shifted his weight ever so slightly, adjusting to her angle. One hand moved behind her back, fingers bracing at her lower ribs, steadying her without pressing.

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  “Try not to bleed on me if it goes wrong,” he murmured.

  Tessa made a face. “Charming.”

  But she eased forward anyway, keeping one hand on the stone and the other reaching carefully for her satchel. It took effort not to overbalance, not to slip. Her boots stayed tight against the ledge, thighs aching as she bent into the space where the crystal cluster pulsed faintly just beyond reach.

  She withdrew her smallest awl—blunt and slightly warped from misuse—and her patch cord. It wasn’t a harvesting brace, but it would hold pressure if she angled it right. She slipped the dull awl beneath the base of the outermost crystal.

  Too much force, and it would shatter. She angled the awl’s edge carefully and gave a gentle wiggle. The crystal cracked at the tip and split clean down the middle with a brittle hiss. Mana escaped in a shimmer of light and vanished into the air.

  Tessa winced. “Too much torque…”

  Rellen didn’t say anything. His hand didn’t waver. She swapped the tool out, took a breath, and tried again—this time on a smaller formation nestled just behind the last. She looped the patch cord around the midpoint, added tension, and began a slow, even pull with the awl braced low at the root. The crystal held.

  Then snapped free, not cleanly—but with a rough edge and a faint pop that made her flinch. The glow sputtered out, half the mana bleeding away as the fracture line ran too close to the core.

  “Closer,” she murmured to herself. “But I need to stabilize first.”

  She bit her lip and looked again at the formation, now narrowing in on a mid-sized bloom, one more deeply embedded, but less exposed to the tension of the others. It would need a back brace.

  She looped the cord differently, rewound it twice, and created a triangle of pressure across her knuckles to keep the force steady.

  “Third time,” she whispered, “please be it.”

  She didn’t rush. The awl slipped beneath with slow resistance. Her fingers held the pressure. Her balance never faltered. A faint sound—a brittle click—and the crystal gave.

  She eased it out, heart hammering now, until the shard lay in her palm. Still glowing. Still intact. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d held and leaned back slowly, pressing herself again to the stone and Rellen’s waiting grip. She held up the crystal for him to see.

  “Tell me that’s not useless.”

  Rellen took the crystal when she offered it, his gloved fingers brushing hers just briefly before closing around the shard. He turned it in the dim light, the glow from its core catching across the fine angles. It wasn’t perfectly cut—rough-edged, uneven at the base—but it pulsed steady with mana.

  His brow creased. For the first time since the fight, Tessa saw something flicker across his expression that wasn’t calculation or control. It wasn’t quite surprise—it was something sharper than that. Like recognition.

  His eyes flicked from the crystal to her improvised tools, still clutched in her lap. He didn’t say anything, but the shift in his posture said enough. He knew. It shouldn't have been that easy—not with what she had, not with what she lacked. The harvest was rough but viable. He tilted his head slightly, then looked down at the crystal again.

  “I’ll get a few spells out of this,” he murmured. “Two strong ones.”

  The tension in his voice had changed—loosened just a notch. Not relaxed. But no longer bracing against empty reserves. He curled his fingers around the shard and slipped it into an inner pocket of his coat, where it rested close to his chest.

  Then, without missing a beat, he nodded toward another cluster further along the ledge, tucked into a crevice of stone just above their current perch.

  “Try for more,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “We’ll need every edge we can get.”

  Tessa blinked at him.

  “Now?” she whispered.

  He met her gaze, dead serious. “We don’t know how long we have. But we can move as soon as I can cast sufficient again.”

  She hesitated—but only for a breath. Then nodded.

  “Right,” she said. “Got it.”

  She shifted again, steadying herself with his help, and reached for her tools once more. She reached for the next cluster, this one tucked into a crook of stone just above her shoulder. The ledge gave her just enough room to shift upward, one boot braced on a sliver of support as she angled her body carefully toward it.

  She worked quickly—smarter now, her grip firmer. Each harvest gave her something new to correct: the angle of pressure, the way the tool needed to pivot slightly, how her breath had to stay even when the crystal began to shift.

  The first one cracked—too much tension again—but the next two came free, edges rough but whole. Their glow was softer than the first, but still viable. She passed one down to Rellen, who took it without a word, nodding once in quiet approval. His hand didn’t linger this time—just a smooth exchange. Tessa moved to the give him the other one.

  Almost—

  A sudden grip seized her arm. Before she could gasp, Rellen pulled her back hard against the wall, one arm tightening across her midsection to keep her still. Her tools and single mana crystal clattered softly into her lap.

  Below, the faint crunch of boots on stone echoed. Not footsteps at first. Just sound. But it was enough. Tessa’s heart jerked in her chest.

  Rellen leaned closer, voice a breath near her ear. “She’s back.”

  They froze together, bodies pressed tight against the stone, the ripple of his illusion still cloaking them. Tessa held her breath, every muscle straining not to move. Below, nothing moved for a long moment.

  Then—like a painting brought to life—Rynna appeared from the thick shadows, her figure separating from the dark. She stopped beside Kolt’s body. Even from the ledge, Tessa could see the change. Rynna didn’t cry out or drop to her knees. She didn’t curse or shout or even reach for her weapons. She simply stilled. And stared.

  Long enough that Tessa felt her lungs burn from holding her breath. Then Rynna moved. Not toward the body. Not toward the blood. But away—toward the walls.

  With clinical efficiency, she mapped the cavern with her eyes. Her gaze swept over every ledge, every bloom cluster, every uneven ridge or pocket of stone that might conceal a shape. Tessa felt Rellen go still in a different way. His breathing tightened against. Rynna crossed to the edge of the fissure. She peered into it. Not deeply, not long, but enough.

  Enough to guess whether a body might have been dropped there. Or is hiding. She didn’t speak. Didn’t mutter to herself. Just moved, circling the body once before returning to the center of the cavern.

  She crouched beside Kolt’s body. She moved with the methodical detachment. Her fingers worked quickly, brushing past the blood-soaked folds of his coat. She checked his belt, his inner pocket, the place beneath the collar where a second pouch was strapped flat against the skin.

  Tessa saw it—the moment her hand paused. Just for a second. Rynna pulled back. Empty. Whatever she'd been looking for, it was gone. Tessa felt the shift like a change in air pressure. Rynna didn’t speak. Didn’t make a sound. She just stood up slowly, back straight, head bowed slightly as if in thought.

  Then her boot lashed out with sudden, vicious speed. It connected with Kolt’s side, rolling the corpse halfway onto its back.

  “Fucking useless—” She kicked again, and again, snarling low under her breath. “You had one job. One.”

  Another kick. This one hit bone, the sharp crack echoing off the crystal walls. Tessa flinched, eyes wide.

  “You cocky little shit, always posturing—” Rynna’s voice cracked mid-word, anger and panic tangling together. “And now what?”

  She struck one more time, then finally stumbled back, breath coming hard. For a moment, she looked like she might break apart entirely—come undone at the seams of her fury.

  She stood over the broken body and stared down at it, shoulders heaving. Then, slowly, she crouched—lower than before. One hand braced to the ground. The other pressed flat to her chest, just beneath the neck of her armor.

  Her entire frame shook once. Then stilled. Tessa watched her exhale—long and slow. The next breath steadied her. The next leveled her. When she spoke again, it was quieter. Controlled.

  “The dungeon’s still up. That means we didn’t fail.”

  She dragged a hand down her face and sat back on her heels, staring at the blood-soaked stone beside her.

  “We’re still in it.”